[Kedyn Rowien]

Timestamp: The Second Brightening of Optia, the Season of Summer, Era XIV Post-Fractum in the Regency of Milo L’Evienne.

There was nothing to do today. That wasn’t unusual though. Not for her, anyway.

The red-haired Quel’athasan Elf shrugged and sat herself down rather heavily on the curb of the road, her thin legs crossing themselves underneath her lithe form. She was here now, in Syl’rosya…her last hope to find some sense of belonging in this strange and rather disgusting continent. It wasn’t Trelore. It was barbaric, horrific. She didn’t like it at all here. She wished she was somewhere, anywhere else.

But there wasn’t anywhere else to be. She and Kisa had braved the wilds of the sea to come here and, from her uncle, gain a chance at a second life. Trelore didn’t want her; her father had made such an opinion quite clear the rean she and her sister had left the island Elfish nation.

So now she was here. Rubbing her pale nose, the young Elf leaned back heavily into the ground. She was here with no purpose, no money, and no place to stay – a stranded, helpless child, lost and listless. There was little hope and fewer dreams for such a lonely soul.

Reaching back behind her, Kedyn hunted in her pack until her fingers lighted upon the wooden smoothness of her flute. Immediately, as her hand touched its edge, the Elf felt a warmth flooding about her body. It was a spirit of familiarity, a sense of belonging – feelings so foreign to her throughout her eras of wandering about the Empire.

She raised the instrument to her thin lips and softly began to blow. The tune was simple, soft, and haunting…whispering of trees and grass bending against a playful wind. The notes wove up and down as the waves of the sunlight twisted about the clouds. It was an ancient lullaby her mother had once hummed to her as she had fallen asleep on her lap, dreaming of lilies and lilacs.

Finally the notes faded away as the flute fell from her mouth. Jade eyes had closed under the force of concentration and, still closed, allowed images of a place far away drift before her consciousness. She hummed, softly, the notes falling about her as petals fell from a tree in springtime.

Time passes by...